Work Text:
[HOT] ‘Nation’s Songbird’ CHOI CHANHEE avoids soloist JU HAKNYEON during 241031 MCOUNTDOWN broadcast
[ 501][-759]
[ 614, -182] Who does he think he is? ㅋㅋㅋ That songbird title doesn’t mean you can be an *sshole
[ 571, -801] Never liked his attitude. His voice is okay at most…
[ 401, -109] you can hate his personality but you’re lying about his voice… going to hell
[ 432, -12] Fighting, Haknyeon-ah! ㅠㅠ
[ 399, -367] But chanhee is usually nice? Ha… I can’t believe this
[ 205, -56] Do you believe everything you see online? ㅋ
[ 296, -51] Haknyeon, so pretty today
[ 76, -153] This is weird. You all overthink so much these days. Someone could pass by you and you would call it avoiding. Kids these days…
[ 108, -28] the video is good proof? why did he have to move away
[ 68, -10] and all the way to the other side of the stage. weird
[ 79, -197] you’re all delusional ㅋㅋㅋ
Chanhee wasn’t much of a morning person. And his manager, Sangyeon, knew this quite well. Which is exactly why he arrives at Chanhee’s apartment at three in the morning with a hot, steaming cup of coffee. Chanhee’s favorite brew, too.
Chanhee takes it without complaint. “What’s the occasion?” he asks, taking a sip. He asks, but he has an idea or two—his phone had been vibrating non-stop last night, but he’d ignored it in favor of sleep.
There’s a little bit of concern here. Sangyeon, even with all the composure he has as Chanhee’s daily manager, has a little furrow between his brows. Clear signs of stress, and it can’t be a good sign when it’s Sangyeon we’re talking about here.
“PR wants to release a—hmm.” Sangyeon cuts himself off, handing his phone over. “Have you been online?” At the shake of Chanhee’s head, Sangyeon nods understandably. “Well, good. PR wants to release a statement on this. Told them I’d let you know first and see if you have any input.”
Chanhee takes the phone without another word. He reads a line or two in silence, Sangyeon’s foot tapping on the carpeted floor the entire time. He hands the phone back with a frown.
“Well, that’s…” A heavy feeling settles in his chest—anger or disappointment, he’s not sure. Chanhee’s had his fair share of rumors and controversies within the entire duration of his career. Well, maybe more than the typical idol… but that’s because people care too much.
Chanhee could be doing one harmless thing, and just because people don’t like his so-called attitude, it’d be interpreted as something with different intent. It’s annoying, but disheartening, too.
The truth is that after the anger simmers, Chanhee’s a sensitive person. He often tries to not let it all get to him, but it does. All he can do next is mope around Changmin and Younghoon, scroll through the comments obsessively, or just ask why people care so much.
Chanhee’s strong personality doesn’t make him a bad person or give others the right to overanalyze his every move, and people just… don’t get that.
“That’s bullshit,” he settles with that, leaning back against the couch and looking elsewhere. He starts picking at the tips of his fingers—a nervous tick of his, as his friends had pointed out in the past.
“I know it is,” Sangyeon says, gently. He sighs. “PR knows it is, too. I told them you’d like a say about the statement. Do you?”
And the thing is, even if Chanhee did care enough, even when the anger dies down and he ends up spending days wondering where he went wrong or how he can be perceived less than he is now, he always says no to these types of things. He lets the people do their work.
Chanhee never really addresses it himself, either. Another month will come, another rumor or controversy will surface, so what was the point of it all? Chanhee opens his mouth to reply, but stops when Sangyeon’s phone rings and he holds up a hand for Chanhee to wait.
“Uh-huh,” Sangyeon says into the phone. He makes eye contact with Chanhee. “Yeah, he’s here with me. We were talking about—” Sangyeon frowns, and Chanhee tries not to worry. He opts to scroll through his notification drawer, filled with messages from Changmin and Younghoon, all the while listening to one side of the conversation taking place. “I was asking—what? Seriously?”
Chanhee looks up. Sangyeon looks to be genuinely surprised at something, Chanhee doesn’t know what.
“I’ll let him decide,” Sangyeon says. “We’ll be over in a bit.” Then, he ends the call.
“What’s up?” Chanhee says, voice low.
Sangyeon rubs at his forehead, clearly stressed. “It’s Ju Haknyeon,” he says, and Chanhee frowns. “He wants to talk to you. He’s coming over to the company with his manager.”
Chanhee blinks.
Oh.
Ju Haknyeon deserved better.
That’s what everybody says, anyway. Chanhee remembers him to be one of the contestants on the second season of Produce 101, a survival show he didn’t really follow when it’d been airing a few years back. The disinterest wasn’t for any particular reason other than his personal preference.
During the show’s airing period, Haknyeon had a decent amount of fans, if Chanhee could remember correctly. Decent enough to launch him within the top 20 contestants until the very end, but failing to make it to the group lineup due to some… well, no other way to put it, sabotage from the producers themselves.
When fans started to notice, it spread like wildfire online. Justice for Ju Haknyeon, was the main point of all the social media campaigns that followed. They’d point out how he was edited to look bad or horrible or downright dismissive of everyone’s efforts, when in fact, he wasn’t. A lot of idols were talking about it on the downlow, enough for some ex-contestants to even subtly hint at the manipulated editing. It didn’t come as a shock to most people Chanhee had talked to about it with.
“Networks,” Changmin had said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not really surprised. You remember the dance competition show I was on a few years ago?” Chanhee nods his head at that. “They evil edited Lee Juyeon on there, but he’s harmless, really. Don’t know why they thought that’d be a good idea. He debuted and everyone saw him for what he was—a nerd, and I say that positively, by the way.”
Chanhee had hummed, scrolling through the barrage of tweets. Some hateful towards Haknyeon, some angry for him, and some in disbelief.
“That sucks,” Chanhee said, quietly.
“That’s the industry for you,” Changmin had said. It wasn’t giving up or not acknowledging how misconstrued things could get—it was the truth of the present matter, something they couldn’t really change. At least not quickly.
Ju Haknyeon deserved better, but Chanhee thinks he’d gotten exactly that. After the anger had died down and the show had finished its airing period, Haknyeon debuted. Not alongside the new group, of course—that’d be bad for numbers. A few months after them, Chanhee remembers. He’d made waves in the industry, his vocals finally receiving the stage it’d deserved, and his loud and bubbly personality being the immediate highlight of his career. Lots of opportunities followed: more albums, variety shows, hosting gigs. Chanhee wasn’t a fan, far from it really, but it was hard to ignore stars like Haknyeon—those who were dimmed, but eventually shined in their own ways, as they’d deserved.
Maybe Chanhee felt particularly bad for the way things happened because he’d been there. Having your actions be twisted in one way or another, having your character be tarnished by untrue words.
It’s a little funny to Chanhee, then, that they eventually found themselves in this situation.
Haknyeon doesn’t look stressed. He merely smiles and waves when Chanhee enters the small meeting room his company had set up for them as a response to Haknyeon’s requested arrival. He’s dressed up in a white button up shirt, which makes Chanhee somewhat conscious in his own dark blue hoodie. He’d been pulled out of his apartment in a flash, and had no time to dress better or even put on some makeup.
Their PR teams were surely working together to fix this problem in some other room down the hall, but Sangyeon had informed Chanhee of Haknyeon’s request for a conversation, which he agreed to. Why not?
“Chanhee-ssi,” Haknyeon greets, standing up. “I—”
Chanhee bows slightly. “Haknyeon-ssi, I apologize for the recent controversy. I can assure you, what they’re saying isn’t true and I didn’t mean to make it seem—”
“Whoa, hey,” Haknyeon says, tapping him on the shoulder. Chanhee stands up straight, looking at Haknyeon with a blank look.
He’s used to these things. Apologizing for dragging others into misunderstandings began by the press or by random netizens, that is. It’s better to do that than… make a fuss, he supposes.
“I’m not here for an apology?” Haknyeon says. He gestures for Chanhee to sit, and Chanhee follows, a little confused. They both sit across from each other in the long, empty meeting table. “I’m here for… an offer, actually. Ah. Maybe a suggestion is the better term for it.”
“An… offer.”
Haknyeon nods, seemingly a little excited. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it, Chanhee-ssi,” he says. “Well! Unless you’ve been harboring some sort of grudge against me for years now? If that’s the case, tell me right now and I can start making it up to you.”
“Oh, no,” Chanhee says, frowning. “People can be a bit much sometimes. It was genuinely just coincidence, believe me.”
Haknyeon shrugs. “Figured as much,” he says, leaning forward. Chanhee moves his chair a bit, too, feeling like he’s about to be let into some sort of secret. “So, I was thinking… we should do a live together.”
“A live?” Chanhee repeats, making sure he’s hearing this correctly.
Haknyeon gives him a nod. “A live. Where we clarify things and make it clear we have no bad blood towards one another. We can do it on your Instagram, but I suggest doing it on mine? Since people think you’ve somehow wronged me and I think it’d make a bigger impact if done on mine. Unless you wanna do it on yours…?”
Chanhee shakes his head. “Oh, no. Yours would be fine. I just…” he trails off, humming. He’s never done one of these before. He wonders what PR would say. He glances over at the door, thinking of how Sangyeon and Haknyeon’s manager were both waiting outside. Haknyeon follows his gaze and lets out a little noise of understanding.
“They know,” he tells Chanhee. Chanhee looks back at him, eyes wide. “I pitched it to ‘em, after all. They said PR will kill them, or maybe us, but told us to go for it if that’s what we really want.”
Chanhee leans back. Huh. He’s never… done this before, not really. Normally, he just lets the people think what they’d like to think, always leaving the work to PR and trying his best not to mind everything being said about him. Was it the healthiest solution to his problems? Not really, but you can’t be so choosy in the industry, either.
What does Chanhee really want, anyway?
His phone vibrates in his hand. He looks down, and it’s another text from Changmin asking if he’s alright. He holds back a sigh.
Chanhee shrugs, looking up at Haknyeon. “Let’s do it,” he says. “Right now?”
Haknyeon grins. His eyes form crescents, and Chanhee sees just how amused this entire situation gets him. But he treats it with seriousness, too, with the way this conversation had started. Chanhee… appreciates it.
“It’s the best time to do it,” Haknyeon says. He slides his cup of iced coffee over to Chanhee, straw and all. “Want some? While I go set up.” He whips his phone out in the process, tapping here and there.
Chanhee holds in a yawn, grabbing the cup and giving Haknyeon a little smile. “Don’t mind if I do.”
[HOT] CHOI CHANHEE and JU HAKNYEON go live on Instagram to address recent rumors
[ 987][-301]
[ 790, -13] These kids have guts
[ 617, -98] Someone’s gonna get fired today ㅋㅋ
[ 43, -2] i’ll be fired! why did they go live so early… i was almost late to the morning commute ㅋㅋㅋ
[ 3, -16] Ha… log on to reality
[ 423, -435] Ah… it was all a misunderstanding… I pity Haknyeon
[ 418, -74] you guys were so brave talking sh*t about Chanhee, where’s his sorry?
[ 395, -119] I always believed you Chani
[ 305, -157] i believe them… the original post was so weird. i don’t get why it blew up
[ 13, -5] i never believed it either
[ 26, -55] You can’t watch that and tell us it wasnt a bit weird
[ 128, -37] Happy they cleared it up… Chani was getting so much hate on X… he didn’t deserve it…
When they end the Instagram live with a final joke or two, Chanhee feels relief fill his chest. He’s not quite sure what the reception will be like just yet, but getting the truth out there? He never knew it could be this fulfilling and relieving.
Haknyeon gets up from his chair next to Chanhee, stretching his arms. His shirt lifts up a little from the action, and Chanhee looks away with the clear of his throat.
Haknyeon looks at him with a grin and holds a hand out. “Nice working with you.”
Chanhee takes it, shaking his hand. He smiles a bit. “Thank you,” he says, “for the idea and all. Even if it’s way too early for all of this.”
Haknyeon laughs, loud and carefree. He’s grown quite accustomed to it during the whole session, despite the two of them being live for less than 20 minutes. Well, it’s still the most time he’s spent with Ju Haknyeon. First time even interacting with him, really, but it was very much a pleasant one.
“Back to getting some beauty sleep, then.” Then, Haknyeon scans Chanhee’s face. He smiles. “Not that you’ll need it, though, hyung.”
Chanhee’s eyes slightly widen. Before he can even begin to ask what he means by that, and if he’s interpreting this right, the door creaks open and in walks their managers.
They let go of each other’s hands.
Haknyeon’s manager looks like the definition of stressed.
“Jacob hyung,” Haknyeon greets, walking over and linking their arms. “Let me tell you all about it…”
Chanhee and Sangyeon watch as they leave, not without Haknyeon sending Chanhee one last wink and a small wave, though.
Sangyeon turns to him with a sigh. “Let’s get you home. I’ll be dealing with management, don’t worry.”
Chanhee offers him a thankful smile.
And that’s that.
Supposedly.
When Younghoon leans over the restaurant table to show him the nth post about Chanhee and Haknyeon’s “legendary live,” Chanhee has to sigh with a little bit of exasperation, forgive him.
“Didn’t think this would be such a big deal,” Chanhee says, stuffing a dumpling into his mouth.
“Not a big deal, he says,” Changmin says, mockingly. “You guys went on Instagram to basically tell people to fuck off, Chanhee. I’d say that’s a pretty big deal.”
Younghoon’s scrolling through his phone, probably on X, a giddy smile on his lips. “They keep talking about how cool you guys were, and how funny Haknyeon’s line about being popular was.” Ah, that was fact, Chanhee thinks. Even he couldn’t hold back the laugh or hide it well enough with his hand when Haknyeon had jokingly mentioned how surprised he was at his popularity. Younghoon squints at his phone. “They’re saying you guys must be real good friends by now. How true is this?”
Chanhee shakes his head. “Oh, not at all. I haven’t spoken to him since.”
“Really?” Younghoon says, in pure disbelief. Chanhee doesn’t know what’s so shocking about it—it’s not like he had any other reason to reach out, anyway. “Not even on Instagram?”
“I did see some tweets about how hilarious it was that you guys weren’t even following each other,” Changmin chimes in. “Really, Chanhee-ssi… Not even mutuals?”
“I don’t see why it’s necessary,” Chanhee grumbles.
Truth is, he ends up thinking about it a little more later on, when he’s settled in his apartment after their dinner together and finally all alone. He presses himself against the comfort of his pillows, tapping on Instagram after a few moments of silent contemplation.
Haknyeon’s feed was somewhat similar to his own. They both very much preferred pictures of themselves, over abstract ones or those of their surroundings (no offense to Changmin). Haknyeon’s feed was filled with candid shots of him on outings, or extra pictures from his modeling gigs. There were a lot, by the way, and with a face like that? Chanhee wasn’t really shocked.
Haknyeon had a large following, even more than Chanhee’s own. Makes sense, Chanhee thinks, with how much of a following Haknyeon had garnered during the airing of Produce 101. He was a charismatic and carefree soul, and their brief meeting the other day had only solidified this belief of his.
Okay. He takes a deep breath, clicks on the ‘Message’ button, and composes a message. Okay, actually, several.
idisnew
Hello, Haknyeon. I just
wanted to thank you for the
other day.
I don’t think I would’ve done
any of that if it weren’t for
your suggestion.
I hope your company is treating
you well after everything - thankfully,
things have died down online.
I still apologize for any of this happening
in the first place, though. But thank
you again for being so understanding.
Chanhee sighs in frustration. Should be fine and received—they were both verified on here, after all.
He throws his phone somewhere into his sheets, and goes back to burying his face against his pillow. Eventually, he lets sleep overtake him, and the thoughts of Haknyeon and the live cease.
On Christmas eve, Chanhee finds himself at an intercompany party. The details are blurry to him—Sangyeon told him to dress decently, get in the van, and some more information about how multiple companies and its idols, including his own, had been invited.
Chanhee wasn’t the most fond of social gatherings like this one. Especially when Changmin and Younghoon informed him of his absence. Not even Jiwoo was around despite being high in demand, as she had mentioned needing to participate in a holiday charity drive for an environmental cause. Chanhee had greeted some familiar idols here and there: someone he’d worked on a drama track with, the rookies situated a few floors below him, and a few idols he’d met through a brief radio host gig.
This is exactly why he finds himself sitting on one of the balcony couches, absentmindedly looking over the city lights. The party’s floor was at the very top of the hosting company’s building. He’s sure he could do better and socialize for connections, like what his higher-ups are most likely doing, but how could he?
The night air felt cool on his skin, the muffled sounds of the party inside sounding just right for comfort. An occasional notification from his phone—most likely a text from Changmin checking in on his social battery every now and then—wasn’t at all enough to disturb his relaxed and faraway gaze. He’d been dragged to this event by obligation, but at least he got some sort of moment of peace from it all.
It’s a little late into the evening when he hears one of the large sliding doors open, the noise from the inside seeping into the outside air.
“Chanhee hyung,” someone calls for him. It startles him a little bit, and he turns in his seat to identify the newcomer.
It’s Haknyeon. He never would’ve expected to be approached by him tonight. He doesn’t mind, but Haknyeon was a social person, wasn’t he? Chanhee hadn’t seen him earlier tonight, but he knew of him and his constant presence in many overlapping social circles.
Out here, it was just Chanhee, a few people quietly chatting amongst themselves on the other side of the area, and the stars. What was he doing here, then?
Chanhee makes a move to stand up, but Haknyeon waves him off. “Haknyeon,” he says, patting the free space next to him instead. Haknyeon sits a decent space away from Chanhee, but not enough for it to be awkward. “It’s nice seeing you here tonight.”
Haknyeon nods, looking over his shoulder and at the party through the glass. He looks back at Chanhee.
“Partyʼs not really your thing, hyung?”
Chanhee snorts. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Haknyeon grins. “The food was cool and all, but I think Iʼd much rather be elsewhere.” He hums, gaze elsewhere. His expression turns sheepish, and Chanhee doesnʼt look away in lieu of understanding why. “I wanted to apologize, hyung, for not seeing your messages sooner.”
The messages? The—ah. Chanhee flusters a little bit. “Oh. Thatʼs… itʼs fine.”
Haknyeon shakes his head. “I don’t think it is,” he says. “I really did mean to reply. But as Sunwoo says, I’m a horrible texter. You could call me a thousand times, too, and I wouldn’t budge.”
Chanhee laughs. “It’s really fine, Haknyeon-ssi. I experience the same with a friend of mine.”
Haknyeon grins. “You get it, then,” he says. “But we’re not really there yet, huh? So let me make it up to you.”
Chanhee blinks. “There’s really no need, Haknyeon.”
Haknyeon puts a finger out between them, and Chanhee holds a laugh back at the desperate gesture. “Hear me out. You wanna get out of here?”
Not every day you get that question, and certainly not one you’d get in this profession.
“What do you propose?”
Haknyeon’s grin only grows at the sound of Chanhee’s interest. “Let’s get out of here. We can escape when our managers aren’t looking. I’ll take you out for some proper dinner.”
Well. He had a point there. The small portions of tonight’s offered dinner weren’t exactly the definition of fulfilling for a foodie like Chanhee.
His phone vibrates. He looks down to see a message from Changmin, reading, i hope ure having fun at least, hee :p
Chanhee sighs. Haknyeon looks at him expectantly.
“Sure. Why not?”
Haknyeon takes him out on a food trip. They don’t go to a specific restaurant or two, that’s the thing. They take a stroll through the quieter parts of the city, where food carts and tents are often set up for passersby.
Chanhee puts his shades on with the thought of at least staying partially hidden in public, while Haknyeon does nothing at all.
He’s known around these parts, it seems, with all the food tent aunties greeting him. Hell, the one whose tent they’d entered had greeted Haknyeon with a big smile and a side hug. When they’ve settled down in one of the small portable tables, a variety of street food on sticks and bowls of quick-to-prepare ramyeon between them, Chanhee finds himself bothering with his hair through the reflection of his phone and making sure it looks decent with the shades.
Haknyeon slurps a noodle with speed and looks up at Chanhee with a small smile. “You look fine, you know, hyung.”
Chanhee feels his cheeks heat up, putting his phone down. “Thanks,” he mumbles. He clears his throat. “You don’t care if someone spots us?”
It’s enough of a straightforward question fueled by Chanhee’s curiosity, and he gets a straightforward answer right back.
Haknyeon shrugs. “It’s my truth that matters.”
Chanhee hums, taking a bite of his food.
“I guess so,” Chanhee says.
“But it doesn’t mean the live wasn’t necessary,” Haknyeon continues. “Thank you still, by the way, for agreeing to that. You never had to apologize, hyung.”
He’s referring to the messages. Chanhee holds back a groan.
“I know, but my reputation—I guess I’m more sorry about dragging you into it, you know?”
Haknyeon shakes his head. “Hey, I know your reputation isn’t exactly fact, either,” he says. “Sunwoo told me, and I figured it out eventually. Sorry on his behalf for gossiping, though. He just wanted to help.”
Kim Sunwoo. Chanhee had worked with him on a main track for a romantic drama. Sunwoo had been a fun person to work with, and they’d built up this rapport of teasing and back and forths. The internet, of course, had no good say about it and interpreted it as Chanhee bullying a much younger person in the industry. Things died down eventually, of course, with opposing views and company statements. The two of them remain friends to this day, even when Chanhee never did gather the courage to talk about what had happened. This was the second mention of him tonight from Haknyeon, and he had to ask.
“You’re friends with Sunwoo-ya?”
Haknyeon gestures, humming with a slightly hesitant tone. “Well, yeah. He’s my ex.”
Chanhee’s eyes widen. He looks around, frantic, and tries to spot anyone who might be listening in on their conversation. Any hidden paparazzi, fans, or just strangers lingering on their words.
Haknyeon, on the other hand, laughs. “It’s fine, hyung,” he says, shrugging. He raises a brow. “Unless you find it to be… a bad thing?” he suggests, perhaps mistaking Chanhee’s alarm for shame.
Chanhee shakes his head. Immediately. “No, Haknyeon-ah, I don’t,” he says. In fact, I’m… “I just worry someone will overhear.”
“Oh, right,” Haknyeon says, waving his hand. “Right, sorry. You wanna get out of here, then? Talk somewhere else?”
Chanhee looks down at his bowl, still half-filled. Haknyeon grins, turning in his seat and waving nearby. “Ajumeoni! Can we get some takeout?”
They end up walking along Han River. It’s a quiet and comfortable time, and Chanhee has a lot of questions on the tip of his tongue, but he holds back until they settle down in one of the patches of grass along the way, a warm light overhead as they sit.
It’s still quiet. Chanhee watches people pass by, and the way the city’s lights sparkle against the river’s calm waters. It’s been an odd night, if he’s honest. He barely knew Haknyeon, but here he was, escaping company parties and running away with a fellow idol he barely knew, much less interacted with pre-Instagram live.
“You can ask, you know,” Haknyeon starts, moving to lie down against the grass. Chanhee looks down at him with a questioning stare. “About Sunwoo.”
“I won’t ask for anything you wouldn’t wanna tell me,” Chanhee says instead. Haknyeon gives him a blank look. Chanhee sighs. “Okay, okay. So… Sunwoo.”
“Sunwoo,” Haknyeon says, nodding. “We met when we were trainees. Dated for a few years, but it didn’t work out. Call it a difference in values.”
Chanhee hums. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Haknyeon shrugs. “All good. We’re still good friends,” he says, lifting his arms and resting the back of his head against his palms. “I heard a lot about you from him, you know.”
Chanhee clears his throat. “You’ve talked about me.”
“Don’t give him all the credit,” Haknyeon says, smiling. “I’m a fan, hyung!”
Oh. Chanhee doesn’t know what to make of all this. “Seriously?”
Haknyeon nods. He sits up, giving Chanhee a serious look. “Even before Sunwoo was, hyung. Your tracks for The Shadows of Yesterday? Bone chilling. I’m begging management to approve my idea of a cover for Persona. Your song for the My Girl remake? Golden. Your latest albu—”
“The remake?” Chanhee repeats. “Haknyeon-ah, that was ages ago.”
“Like I said, I’m a fan!” Haknyeon crosses his arms. “Don’t believe me? Ask Sunwoo.”
“You talk an awful lot about me, then,” Chanhee muses, “for Sunwoo to somehow have all the knowledge.”
“Yeah, sure,” Haknyeon says, and his cheeks are a little red. From the cold, maybe, but Chanhee has an inkling of the opposite. “You’re real talented, hyung. It’s a shame we met this way.”
“Not either of our faults,” Chanhee tells him. “And hey, we met. That’s all that matters, right, Haknyeon-ah?”
Haknyeon hums, looking at Chanhee with something indecipherable. “Yeah,” he says, lying back down. “You’re right, hyung.”
They settle into a comfortable silence for a while. And then, they have quiet conversations about all sorts of things while the clock ticks towards midnight: the recent comments on their shared controversy, the perils of being an idol in this day and age, and their scheduling reasons for being here instead of at home. Then, other less serious things: who between them can eat a whole pizza faster, and a little debate on who has the worst controversies between the two of them.
The night ends with a little bit more understanding of Haknyeon’s character. He’s carefree and lighthearted to be around, but he’s a force of nature, too—his ambitions have stayed strong since day one, even with everything the industry’s thrown his way. Chanhee adores that about him, he comes to realize, because he’s not sure he can say the same thing about himself.
It’s inspiring, though, the way Haknyeon can express such conviction in his own beliefs, how he takes things in stride.
Maybe a part of Chanhee envies him. He knows his truth, but he lets people’s words get to him sometimes—he doubts himself at times, or lets himself bend to their wishes and sentiments. Haknyeon is a reminder that maybe he shouldn’t.
Their night together ends with a taxi ride. They pass by Chanhee’s place first, and Haknyeon rolls the window down to say goodnight, reminding Chanhee that they should see each other again sometime, especially when they were both going to be around for New Year performances.
Chanhee holds back on the idea of inviting Haknyeon up to his apartment, instead waving and watching under the snow as the car drives away.
[HOT] CHOI CHANHEE and JU HAKNYEON spotted together on Christmas eve
[ 812][-121]
[ 601, -91] Wow. Besides the stuff from last month, isn’t this friendship so unexpected?
[ 51, -3] Right? Arent they complete opposites…
[ 537, -33] Those rumor starters never would have expected this ㅋㅋ
[ 326, -16] I hope they collab soon
[ 294, -12] what… this is a really powerful duo…
[ 140, -398] Hey? Scandals bring boys closer I guess…
[ 551, -16] barely a scandal. Get over it
[ 90, -3] omo??? this is so cute?? werent they at a party though…
They get banned from seeing each other for a while.
Not a serious one, but notable enough for Sangyeon to head over to Chanhee’s apartment with the bad news from management. That’s how Chanhee knows he’ll need to abide by the temporary rule, lest he get told off by someone other than Sangyeon.
“As much as I’m happy you’re making friends,” Sangyeon starts, while Chanhee furiously types out a message to Changmin about his unfortunate situation. “Management wants things to die down online first, alright? Everyone still seems to have an eye out for you guys.”
Chanhee stops typing. “People have nothing better to do with their lives.”
Sangyeon sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “Anything trends these days.”
Chanhee snorts. “For sure.”
It’s a day or two before the New Year, right after Chanhee ends the call with his mother, when he gets a message from none other than _juhaknyeon_ on Instagram.
It’s a message containing nothing else but a phone number. Chanhee frowns, copies it, and calls it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hyung!” It’s Haknyeon, who sounds awfully out of breath. “We can’t talk on Instagram. They’ve—”
“Banned us, I know.”
“Banned is a funny word,” Haknyeon says. He sounds like he’s been running. “Anyway, a little bird told me we actually live around a block away from each other.”
“I don’t know if I enjoy being doxxed by random people, Haknyeon-ah.”
“Oh, but hear me out, hyung,” Haknyeon continues. “Look outside your window real quick?”
Chanhee frowns. He walks over and does, and immediately spots the figure standing out on the street. “It’s freezing outside,” Chanhee says, alarmed. Haknyeon only has a layer or two on, it seems.
When Haknyeon hears this and spots his window successfully, he speaks into the phone, “Indeed, but can you say no to this face, hyung?” He frames his face with his other hand, looking up at Chanhee with all the aegyo he can muster on the spot.
That’s not what Chanhee meant. On the way down, he grabs an extra jacket. Haknyeon complies at the immediate sound of Chanhee’s doting.
They trek through the snow-covered street and towards a nearby convenience store, open 24/7. They go through the aisles, picking random items off the shelves. Haknyeon proposes an odd mix for their noodles, which Chanhee winces at, but he’s willing enough to play along and see where it goes.
The cashier, at first, looks at them with a dazed look. A mix of amazement, and a mix of slight squinting and trying to figure out if he was seeing things. Haknyeon puts a finger against his own lips, gesturing for the cashier to stay hush-hush, and the cashier nods with enthusiasm.
They settle down on one of the tables near the store windows, looking at the snow fall as they eat in silence.
Haknyeon begins his little experiment. Chanhee cringes.
“An experimental chef, I see,” Chanhee comments. Haknyeon chuckles, adding in all the ingredients he’d gathered.
When Chanhee watches him try it out, Haknyeon’s expression morphs into disgust. Then, consideration. Finally, surprise.
“It’s not bad,” Haknyeon says, pushing the little container towards Chanhee’s side. “Try it, hyung.”
Chanhee raises a brow at him, but decides to comply. After a few moments of contemplation, he mutters, huh.
“Surprisingly not bad,” Chanhee says.
Haknyeon taps his fist over his chest. “Trust in me, hyung,” he says. “You should let me cook for you sometime.”
Chanhee smiles. “I’d love that, Haknyeon-ah.”
Haknyeon beams.
Later, when Haknyeon insists on walking Chanhee home, they engage in shenanigans under the snow—Haknyeon sprinkles a bit of snow through the back of Chanhee’s jacket, and the latter retaliates with several quickly-made snowballs.
They end the night with pinkies intertwined and promises to see each other again.
“Wanna get out of here, hyung?”
Chanhee turns to Haknyeon with a scandalized look.
It was the eve of the New Year. It’s been an hour or two since Chanhee’s performance for the New Year’s Eve Special Broadcast, and it’s just been him and the waiting room since then. Not that he had to wait for the countdown, but what else was there to do tonight?
This, maybe. At the sound of Haknyeon’s words, the two stylists in the room with them give each other a look, before proceeding to get up and quietly leave. In one corner of the waiting room, Sangyeon sighs to himself.
Haknyeon’s looking down at him with hopeful eyes, his makeup quite well done. He’d just finished his performance, actually—Chanhee was watching him through the monitor provided in the waiting room, and he was thinking of just how amazing his cover of Fantasy was. Despite the numerous high notes provided by the song, Haknyeon had taken it like a true singer, not even looking worn out at the moment.
Chanhee, on the other hand, had a bit of the opposite aesthetic. He’s got winter-like jewels around his eyes, a simple but elegant white outfit on. Perfect for the winter wonderland theme of his stage from hours ago, all of it pairing nicely with his cover of Last Christmas.
It must be a little funny, the sight. Haknyeon dressed up in an edgy black palette, and Chanhee in sparkly white.
Chanhee glances at Sangyeon, who’s looking away. “We’re gonna get in serious trouble, Haknyeon-ah.”
“Hyung, I know you’re bored, too,” Haknyeon says, holding a hand out. “Come over to my place and I’ll cook for you.”
Spending New Year’s together? “Sounds tempting,” Chanhee says. He glances over at Sangyeon again. “But, well—”
“Go before I change my mind,” Sangyeon says from his spot.
Haknyeon grins, and Chanhee laughs.
Next thing he knows, he’s running down a hallway and dodging the staff, his hand in Haknyeon’s own as they make their escape.
It takes a bit of time trying to find a hoodie big enough for Chanhee, considering their difference in height. When all is finally well and settled, Chanhee finds himself watching Haknyeon in the kitchen like a hawk, swinging his legs back and forth as he sits on the counter.
“Seems I have a critic with me tonight,” Haknyeon says as he cooks.
“I have high expectations,” Chanhee jokes.
“Gonna try my best to impress!” Haknyeon exclaims, giving Chanhee a salute.
Later, they settle down on Haknyeon’s couches with the steaks Haknyeon had cooked for them. Chanhee puts on a drama he’d been watching after a little bit of a lighthearted argument between them on whether or not they should put on a new movie that Haknyeon had acted for.
“No, hyung, please,” Haknyeon says, tugging at Chanhee’s sleeve. “I’ll do anything.”
Chanhee squints, smiling. “Anything?”
“Not anything, but—” Chanhee clicks on the movie with the remote, and Haknyeon tugs harder. “Okay, okay! I’ll take you out for breakfast tomorrow!”
Chanhee laughs, having gotten what he wanted, and clicks back to select something else.
“Seeing yourself on the screen can be really weird,” Haknyeon says, sighing in relief. He cringes. “It was also romance, so.”
Ironic, because they end up watching exactly that. The drama Chanhee’s been watching is a romantic one, and they happen to be on the episode that concludes with a steamy kiss between the two leads.
Crickets. Silence. Chanhee can almost hear the AC’s inner workings with how quiet they’ve both gotten.
When the female lead invites her love interest up to her apartment for some ramyeon, Chanhee glances over at Haknyeon.
He’s already looking.
Chanhee blinks. “Well.”
Haknyeon’s stare cracks, and they both end up laughing out loud.
Later, Chanhee does the dishes despite Haknyeon insisting he can do it himself as the host. A little bit of a payment for breakfast, Chanhee reasons, and Haknyeon gives in with some mischief in his eyes.
“If you’re gonna keep paying me for it,” Haknyeon says, handing Chanhee a game controller. Chanhee looks up at him with questioning eyes. “Let me teach you this one thing, then.”
Chanhee learns how to play Mario Kart.
It’s an hour of screaming, fighting, and evil laughter alternating from either side. When Chanhee finally gets a hang of the game and manages to knock Haknyeon off of the rainbow road with a green shell, Haknyeon gasps in shock and Chanhee almost drops the controller from pure joy.
Haknyeon shakes his hand after their final round, emphasizing his pout. “You win, hyung.”
Chanhee laughs, patting Haknyeon’s cheek with a hand. “I’m still gonna be gracing you with my presence for breakfast, so don’t look so down, Haknyeon-ah.”
Haknyeon’s eyes sparkled. “Right, right.”
Their night dies down with the both of them lounging around on Haknyeon’s balcony, watching the fireworks leading up to the New Year’s countdown. Inside, the broadcast special’s host begins his spiel with the New Year approaching. Chanhee plays with his glass of wine absentmindedly.
“Time flies,” Haknyeon says.
Chanhee hums, taking a sip. The fireworks begin to appear more often leading up to midnight, and Chanhee eventually loses the need to flinch with every loud sound.
“Thanks for having me,” he says, turning to Haknyeon. Like before, Haknyeon is already looking. “It would’ve been a lonely New Year’s.”
Haknyeon glances at the orange sparks in the sky.
“It’s really no problem,” Haknyeon says, looking back at Chanhee with a smile. “Thanks for coming along, hyung. I didn’t think you’d agree to it at first.”
Hell. Chanhee didn’t think so, either.
“Thank you for… for everything, too,” Chanhee continues. “For the past few weeks. It’s been… nice.”
“Hey, you seem so down about it.” Haknyeon nudges him with his elbow. “We have a whole year ahead of us, hyung.”
Chanhee smiles.
Inside, the host announces the start of the 30-second countdown. The fireworks come one after the other, and they sit in silence.
When the ten second countdown starts, Chanhee turns to look at Haknyeon.
He’s already…
“Hyung,” Haknyeon calls, voice raspy. His eyes flit downwards, and Chanhee feels his stomach practically do a flip.
Chanhee doesn’t look away.
When they’re only three seconds away from a whole New Year, Chanhee says his name.
When the neighbors begin yelling, when the fireworks reach their peak, and the host greets his viewers with enthusiasm—
Chanhee leans in, and Haknyeon does, too.
[TALK] CHOI CHANHEE and JU HAKNYEON share each other’s New Year special performances on Instagram
[ 541][-34]
[ 331, -9] this new friendship has been so cute lately… haknyeon & chanhee best duo!
[ 227, -5] I’m still waiting on that collab ㅠㅠ
[ 201, -2] Can someone start a petition for a collab
[ 168, -4] I can’t believe things ended up this way. Good for them
[ 21, -2] the order of events would make a good story for the future ㅋㅋㅋ
[ 116, -6] Their interactions were so cute at the new year broadcast!
[ 57, -1] what an amazing end to the year? who would’ve known, really